


Always, The End

by Astroash94



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), 5SOS, One Direction (Band), five seconds of summer
Genre: Bisexual, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Creepy, Everyone Is Gay, Gay, Gay Character, Gay Love, Gay Male Character, Gay Panic, Gay Rights, Gay Sex, Homosexuality, Horror, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Other, Physical Abuse, Poly, Polyamory, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Sad, Thriller, Trans, Transexual, idk - Freeform, mental health
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2020-05-15 17:35:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 12,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19300501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astroash94/pseuds/Astroash94
Summary: Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Don’t exist.•••“...I wish you would hurt me harder than I hurt you...”





	1. Chapter 1

It's nearly midnight when Luke tosses the small tube of clear lipgloss back into its drawer. He runs a finger along the line of his bottom lip, collecting any color that may have smudged out of place as he put the clear coat on top. 

He meets his own blue eyes in the mirror, smiling brightly. The lip color is a stark contrast to his light eyes. Luke's eyes are probably his favorite thing about himself, but his lips come a close second with freshly applied gloss. 

With a deep breath and a quick nod to himself, he moves to the shower, effectively washing away any trace of the makeup. 

 

 

 

••••

 

 

 

Ashton slides the round framed glasses from his face to rub at his eyes. He's been in relatively the same spot for over nine hours, he's honestly over it and the computers light is giving him a headache. 

His so-called coworker asks if he needs anything, he declines watching the man leave his own little desk. Slipping from his own chair, Ashton reaches the other mans files, taking out the one he wants. 

By the time Brandon returns, Ashton has copied and returned the file he'd stolen, as well as mirrored their computers. 

 

 

 

••••

 

 

 

 

Calum can't say he's happy to be in the small, overfilled church. Not that he'd ever choose to be in a church on his own. He ignores the people passing by him. Patting his shoulder, shaking his hand. He doesn't care. He's a little bit annoyed and a little bit numb. 

He can feel his father shake with tears, but he never lets his eyes leave the picture of the female version of himself at the front of the room. 

As the preacher talks about... whatever preachers talk about. Calum realizes that this whole ceremony is a waist. His sister never believed in churches, so why did they bring her dead body to one. 

 

 

 

 

••••

 

 

 

It's not to say that Michael resents his son. That's his son. Half of his own DNA utilized to create a whole new human. It's just- 

It's just that Jasper is the physical embodiment of everything Michael has ever hated about himself. Michael had stopped and ended and pushed back everything that had been important to himself and his own well-being to raise his son. 

So no, he does not resent his son. Just, everything that shoves it's way into his mind late at night while Jasper sleeps peacefully. 

 

 

 

****


	2. One

In all honesty, Luke could have killed himself that night. 

Not because he had oh-so many life problems, or even because the chemicals in his brain wouldn't let him be happy. But because at the end of the day, he knows he's a shit person. 

He tossed his phone over to the opposite side of the bed from himself.  He'd really hoped things would turn out differently this time. 

At least a new means to the same end would've been nice. 

He still kind of wants to block her number and never even think of it again. Another relationship down the drain because of him.  

The truth is, Luke knew what was going to happen. Everyone did. He couldn't change it because he can't change who is. He doesn't know how. 

Still, he puts his phone away at 12:48am after sending that godawful message and putting his phone on silent. He wants to scream but settles for wiping away the tears he doesn't deserve to shed. 

Luke will admit, he's the biggest hypocrite alive. 

He knows that by this time tomorrow, he'll be back to normal. But she probably won't. Her friends will hate him. She'll hate him, and maybe even herself. 

It's not her fault, Luke has never been good about letting himself care for people. And, isn't it better to cut things off before she gets too attached? 

That's what he tells himself.

In Luke's (not so) humble opinion, breaking up with someone you don't hate, is so much worse than having your heart broken. 

But really what would he know? He’s not even sure he has a heart. 

He almost goes to sleep feeling like shit about it, except, he never falls asleep 

 

 

••••

 

 

Ashton doesn't understand Calum. He doesn't understand how the man can make him feel almost normal again. 

"Please, tell me again why we're here." 

"Because," Calum follows behind his curly headed friend, despite the pair having come due to the kiwi. 

"That's not an answer. And you damn well know I don't do alcohol." Ashton lies. 

The kiwi man lets him off with it though, and let's himself be lead to the bar. “Call it a celebration.” 

Ashton scoffs at that but continues to pull the man towards a couple of seats by a tanned wrist. 

 

“You sure are playing the depressed baby brother well, my love.” Ashton giggles, three drinks deep and wrapped almost completely around the taller man. “I hope the kids don’t secretly hate me...” he mumbles as an after thought, referring to his younger siblings. 

“There’s no secret to it. I can’t stand her, she fucking hated me. End of. Doesn’t mean I fucking killed her.” Ashton hums at the defense. He pulls Calum impossibly closer as the kiwi shuffled the connected pair awkwardly to the middle of the floor to sway with the too-fast music.


	3. Two

"Hello, hello," he whispers, cracking the door open just enough to squeeze through. "I've escaped." He smiles. 

The little body on the bed stretches up, arms above his head in a big yawn. "Oh, good morning baby! Hello, good morning." 

"Da," The child curls in on himself, pulling his arms back into his own chest and closing pretty green eyes. 

The father lets out a small laugh at that, prying a small portion of the blanket away from his son. He lays down so that his nose presses into the back of the baby's neck, the boys curled body seeming so small against his father. 

Jasper's little hand reaches back to shove at his fathers face. "Nu, daddy cold." 

"Yes, daddy's cold, let me warm up, you little devil. Go back to sleep." He pulled the little boy closer to his chest. 

The baby made a few more mumbled sounds that seemed a lot like "no daddy," but Michael ignored them in favor of stealing his sons body heat. 

 

 

~~~~

 

 

"How many goddamn times do I have to say it? Stay out of my stuff!" 

Michael was pacing the small room. His hands were ripping at his hair. His son, who was pulling at his own hair, was sat in the queen bed tears sliding quietly down flushed cheeks. 

"Listen to me - Hey! Look at me!" The father props himself on the bed on one knee. Grabbing his sons chin to steer his eyes in the right direction. "Look at me, listen to what I am telling you right now. Are you listening to me Jasper Kain?" 

"Sorry daddy!" The baby screamed between rough breaths, "I s-sorry!" 

Michael seethed, keeping his hold on the child's face while utilizing his other hand to remove Jasper's fingers from his hair. "Shut up, 'sorry' doesn't mean shit when you keep fucking doing it." 

The adult shoved away from the bed. He returned to pacing the small length of their hotel room, back and forth. 

Michael could've screamed. Not words, he was doing that already - effectively terrifying his child - but a literal scream. 

"D-daddy hate?" 

"No." 

Trying to calm himself he leans against the wall, as far away from the child as possible in fear of actually hitting the boy.   
He will not hit his child. 

He will not hit his child. 

He will not- 

His phone rings. Michael doesn't waste time checking the caller ID before chucking the device across the room. 

He might hit his child. 

"Goddamn it Jasper!" The boy peaks through his fingers as his daddy crumbles against the wall. 

"Daddy?" He stumbles to get his feet on the floor. 

"Goddamn it," it's whispered, but stops Jasper in his tracks. He changes course to retrieve the shattered phone. 

"Broken, daddy." 

Daddy nods into his hands, not looking up at Jasper, who displays the cracked fiberglass to his father. "Don't touch the screen, it'll cut you." 

The baby - god he's still a baby, Michael, get it together - waddles towards his father to hand back the broken phone. 

"Sorry daddy," he mumbles once Michael's taken the phone. He re-occupies his hands by scraping under tiny nails. "Tho-thought was granma."

"Well it wasn't. Don't touch my fucking phone, got it?" 

"Uh huh," dark curls bounce a little as he nods, "no touch daddy fon. Gots it, daddy!" 

Michael closes his eyes but opens his arms, "C'mere. I'm sorry, come here." 

The tiny Clifford boy wiggles his way into his fathers arms. They're sitting in the floor of a cheap hotel room, tears drying on both of their cheeks but Michael wouldn't change a damn thing.


	4. Three

Calum sat in the soft desk chair, but pulled it around to face the bed so he could watch his lover sleep. He'd been in a bit of a daze since Mali-Koa's death. 

It was something he'd been planing for years and now... we'll it's done at least. 

He shook the thought out of his head, no use in worrying about the past. That's what she is now, the past. 

Instead he goes about cleaning his newest purchase. It was built for stealth hunting, like in the forests and shit. Calum was already going through all the ways he could take down his unsuspecting prey, none of which were animals, mind you. "Have you ever thought about killing me?" 

Ashton's voice was thick with sleep, it rumbled deep in his chest and did a number of unholy things to Calum's mind. 

The kiwi man huffs out through his nose, "No one else would save the latest and greatest just for me." 

Ashton's eyes are still closed. He's facing Calum, obviously naked beneath the sheet that's dipped too low against his hips. He's got awful, beautiful, red lines down his chest. Calum knew that the slightest irritation to the mans chest would result in blood on the white bedding. He wanted to scratch him again. 

Calum blinks at the lack of response and decides to change his story. "All the damn time," it's true. 

"Really?" 

"Mhm," Calum returns the gun to one piece and lays his new toy on the table behind him, opting now for a small knife to weave through his fingers like a pencil. "Last week in the pool, with the water dripping down your chest. You're fucking gorgeous wet. Woulda been so pretty choking on chlorine," he trails off, gauging Ashton's reaction to his little confession. 

Ashton smiles softly, running his long fingers against the comforter of the bed. He doesn't object to Calum's fantasies, so the younger man continues. 

"When you wanted to have a fire in the yard... all I could think about was pushing you in it. You-you asked me to take your photo on the train tracks, I wanted to tie you up there and just wait. I almost stole a few needles, when I went to the doctors last, for strep throat, remember? I didn't have it, but I thought I could complain more, to get the nurse to leave, put something toxic in your blood. I ordered you shellfish one time, but asked the waitress to change it last minute, and you got steak.  You're allergic to shellfish, did you know?" 

Ashton shook he's head no, he actually did not know of that allergy. He'd never had shellfish. He opened one eye, wondering vaguely to himself how Calum would even know that. 

Calum's eyes were wide. Ashton always thought the man looked pretty when talking about death. "Last night," the brunette outright moaned, "god, last night! You were so off it, oh you so drunk you would've done it yourself." Calum abandoned his knife to grip the arms of the chair tightly, head thrown back as if physically pleasured by the thought of murdering his lover. 

"You think?" The smaller, older man rolls into stomach. "Hmm, which of those new ones is your favorite?  I'll get more next time," 

Calum surveys the collection of new knives. He picks up a few to test their weight before settling on a small dagger like one that would easily fit in a boot or be hidden under clothes. "I like this one," 

"Bring it here," the dealer rolls again, this time to his back. He allows the killer to straddle him, a leg on either side of his hips. Calum presents the knife by the handle, then lays it carefully on Ashton's left pectoral. 

"Good choice, baby," "thank you," Calum purrs. 

Ashton grips Calum's dominate hand in his, the knife in his other large hand, and forces Calum to wrap tan fingers around the handle. 

He watches Calum's dark eyes dilate as he makes both of them push the blade against the soft skin below Ashton's throat. 

"Yeah?" Calum bites his already raw bottom lip, waiting to learn if this was some sort of sick trick by his lover. 

"Yeah. Little though, baby, hav't'a go to normal people work tomorrow." 

Calum draws blood from his own lip as he nods, pressing down just enough to draw the red liquid out from Ashton's skin. Nodding his agreement to the dealers conditions.


	5. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of chapters posted at once 4-12 tonight so be sure you START HERE

Michael had officially become the biggest idiot he knew. 

When he'd thrown his old model iPhone at the wall the night before it had only cracked the screen, but when he tried to turn it on this morning it came alight with a purple screen and white lines running vertically across it. Needless to say, he's going to buy a new phone. Probably something cheaper this time, in preparation for when he inevitably hurls it at another wall in momentary rage. 

He lets his eye scan the interior of the local chain store he's arrived at, searching out a worker to help him out, to no avail. 

Well, that's a bit of a lie. He does see one other person, a man with blond curls is sat in a chair his tilted on the two back legs. He looks like he might work there, if the blue apron around his waist is to be any kind of indication, but he's focused on his own phone in his hands. His check bones made Michael a little self-conscious, if he's terribly honest about it. He really didn't want to bother the attractive man, especially if he was on his break, or just generally didn't want to speak to Michael. 

But he really needed to get a phone and head back, so he walked over. 

Michael stood for a moment, his shadow falling over the only other human in the room as he fumbled for words to say. 

"Can I help you?" Luke - or so says his name tag - snaps a bit to harshly to be considered good customer service. 

"I-uh-need a new phone."

Michael's statement ends up sounding more like a question, earning a raised eyebrow from the blond who's making his way toward the front desk.  The father presents his phone screen - still purple, with concerning lines - to the man. 

"What did you do, throw it off a cliff?" Luke chews on his bottom lip, ignoring the dry feeling there. He'd throw his favorite lipgloss out of the car window that morning in a fit, and his lips are suffering in the aftermath. 

The customer doesn't laugh, "Well, I threw it." 

"We don't carry this model anymore, would you like a newer version?" 

"I want the cheapest thing you have," Michael laughs at himself for that one. Not that it mattered, but he would have preferred the man not think he was broke - he maybe-kinda was. A sudden thought hits him and, "is there anyway to transfer pictures over?" 

Luke asks sets three different types of phone on the top of the table, "uh, with another Apple phone, maybe. Definitely, if you have an iCloud account. This one," he points to one on the far left - Michael's right. "We could probably do without an account if your storage card isn't too damaged. But it is the most expensive of these," 

"Yeah, fine. That's fine, I want the pictures." He didn't have any other pictures of Jasper. 

Luke nods, telling him the price and handing him a few papers to sign. The blond move to connect the broken phone to the new one, "You want your contacts? Keeping the same number right?" 

"No, uh. Well, can you change the number?" Michael wonders, that would be perfect actually. 

"'Course," Luke waits for the customer to decide what he wants. 

"Change it please," 

 

When Michael is ready to leave he makes a quick, bold decision. Bold for him, anyways. 

He jots his new number down on the back of the phone company's business card and leaves it on top of the customer service desk with the blond. 

Michael blushes, half wishing he'd re-dyed his long-since faded out hair. Making to move out of the store, not wanting to see the other mans reaction once he realizes what the card is for. 

He doesn't see it, but he does hear Luke scoff just before the door is opened. Michael purses his lips, trying not to react to that. Then, "do I look like a fag?"

It's mumbled, but Michael was listening hard, he stumbles to get out of the building.

 

 

••••

 

 

Ashton's boss took the day off, which meant that, as her assistant, Ashton had the biggest work load in the building. 

He was scrambling to get all of the papers in the correct folders and moving to the correct floors. He had to meet with a finical advisor in thirty minutes, but he couldn't do that until Angelia's - his boss' - work was done.

Finally he walked in to speak with the advisor. He was a tall, balding man, cigar hanging from his lips in the non-smoking building. 

"Irwin,"


	6. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of chapters posted at once 4-12
> 
> Be sure to START at chapter 4 (if you have read 1–3) 
> 
> This is CHAPTER 5

"Alright, I'll look them through, be with you A-S-A-P." 

"You're going to be with us in Chicago A-S-A-P." 

"I can't. I told you." Ashton shakes his head. He'd ran his fingers through the curly mess until the gel was nonexistent, so his hair bounces with the movement. "But I'll get you the stuff as soon as I can get my hands on it." 

The dealer lowers his voice, eyes drifting to the door of the conference room, wondering if it had been locked. "Look, I'm in the shitter with Carlisle down too. The whole towns gonna be out for a chemist and I can't beat 'em to him if I'm in damn Chicago playing mediator with you lot." 

Truth be told, Carlisle was a dirty fucking rat, but these men couldn't be bothered with the specifics of the mans death. All that matters is that he was making their drugs and now he's gone, no one seemed to care that he was about to slip to the police. Ashton did what he had to do - well, Calum did. There was no way he could tell the two large men in his office building he'd had the man killed for fear of joining Carlisle in whatever hell comes after earthly life. 

For shits and giggles, he also wasn't telling them he'd already found a sorry sucker to play chemist... until Ashton's lovely little fucktoy inevitably finds something on him as well. 

The man sets his eyes in a glare at the dealer, "We'll be back next week, Irwin," 

"Counting on it." It was sneered sarcastically. 

"You better have the shit by then." The second man, who'd stood silently durning the entire conversation slams the door behind them. Ashton hadn't even managed to do any of his work for his day job, but quickly floundered for a reason to return home and call the new chemist. 

 

"Fuckin' assholes," 

 

 

••••

 

 

Luke crosses his knees at an angle beside the bar. Reaching into a bowl of sweet popcorn he'd found for himself and winking at a red headed woman as he licks the sugar from his own fingertips. 

He was less than pleased with his appearance today, seeming to get all the wrong types of attention at all the wrong times. The man at his job earlier in the day, and the woman now as he's made up with dark eyeshadow and blood colored lips. 

He'd driven directly from work to the bar, nearly four hours away. Luke did as he often would and changed from his boring blue work shirt to something small and skimpy in the bathroom stalls. He was a bit heavy handed with his makeup in the back room, the bartender always let him set up his own little station before the rush hours. 

He'd stopped about half way through his journey to pick up a new lipgloss to save his drying lips - he'd bought three, just in case. There was a fresh coat of it over the sickening red on plump lips as he observed the bustle of the establishment. 

"Do I look like a fag to you?" He asks of the bartender. 

"Uh, trick question?" Luke was sat delectably delicate in a tight floral shirt and a flowing pink skirt. "Dude, ya look like a fairy ta' me. Why? Not getting the attention ya' want?"

This bartender was not one he was familiar with. Luke knew the Irish man on the far side of the bar, behind the counter. The Irish man was the one who snuck him back to allow his makeup sessions, this man, tall and tan with a southern twang, was new to the blond. 

He huffs, "Not at all," Luke picks at his nails, lips set in a pout, "I meant before this anyways. When I came in?" 

The country man shrugs, eyeballing Luke as far down as the counter top would allow. 

"Ugh, whatever." He was in a bratty mood, he knew it, he played it up a bit, but he was annoyed. Luke had come all this way, and he's becoming a bit disappointed in the results. He hops down from the barstool, knocking his sugary popcorn to the floor as he goes. The pieces crunch beneath his heal. 

He pulls a business card of his own workplace from a small handbag as he sidesteps a burly looking Hispanic man. The drunken crowd on the dance floor parts for the pretty little bitch.


	7. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of chapters (4-12) being posted at once 
> 
> Be sure to start at CHAPTER 4 (if you have already read 1-3) 
> 
> THIS is chapter 6

The sound of high heals tapping against the concrete walkway was the only sound save for the muted bustle of the bar that had been left behind. Luke walked with a purpose, even though he really had none. He'd gone outside to make a call, only to have the tone go off. It was a bit of a slap in the face, but then again, the man didn't know his number and it was an extremely early hour for normal folks. 

Luke was so set in his pouting march to his car that he missed the feeling of being watched until the man literally bumped shoulders with him. 

"Hey, watch it, dickhead!" 

The blond speeds up his steps and grumbles to himself, shoving past the man who'd taken up the area beside him. 

"Hello to you too, Lukas." 

"Who the hell are you? That's not my name!" 

The stranger looked him up and down. In any other situation, Luke realized, he would be down for whatever this man might want. But cornering him outside of a bar, hours from his hometown, with far too much information, was a bit outside of the normal range of creepy. And Luke had surely seen his fare share of creepy. 

The man gripped Luke's elbow, pulling him against the outside wall of a pawn shop. "How much?" 

"The fuck do I look like to you!?" Luke shoves at the strange man with little result. That in itself was a scary thought because, as feminine as he sometimes liked to present, Luke is in fact a fully grown six-foot-two man.  No normal human should be chuckling at Luke shoving them. 

He pulls a knee up to the mans groin and kicks him over once he's down.  He doesn't stay dazed for long, but doesn't attempt to get up. 

"A crackwhore, if I'm being completely honest with you, love." Ashton snorts at his own joke, "but a good chemist never does the drugs he sales, huh?" 

"Who in the hot hell are you?" 

"Ash, Ashton, but that's not important. What's important is you and what you can do for me." He puts large hands up in a 'I surrender' type gesture, moving to get off of the concrete. "I've got a job for you." 

Luke shakes his head, blond curls floating about as he does. "No way, man, I don't know what you're talking about." 

Ashton runs a hand over - over, not through, as he'd redone the gel - his own curls. "Oh, but you do, love. Let's have a little chat yeah?" 

 

 

••••

 

 

"How realistic do you need these?" Milo raises an eyebrow at the duo. 

Michael shifts his son on his hip, the toddler playing with the short hairs on the back of his fathers neck. "Government grade, it's gotta pass the schools background check." 

"I go shool." 

"No chances, man, if you can't do it I'll find someone who can. Or scratch it all-together." The father explains. 

Jasper whines from his fathers shoulder, "Sleepy time, daddy."

Michael nods even though the boy can't see it from where his head is laying but doesn't otherwise respond. He runs his fingers through the small boys dark hair. 

Milo shakes his head quickly, "Nah, I got it. It's cool." 

"Daddy, play fone?" 

"Just a minute, J, please? We're almost done." 

Milo asks the duo to move around to an interior room. He tells Michael to move in front of a camera, but the mini Clifford throws a mini tantrum when he's sat down on the hardwoods flooring. 

"Daddy no!" 

"Daddy yes." Michael counters, "Shut up for a second. You're standing, you're not going to die." The father moves to have his picture taken. 

Little fingers pull at his shirt from the bottom hemline. "Up, up, up, up, up!" 

"No, no, no! Jasper enough, we would already be done if you would stop your fucking fit." 

Jasper pouts at his father, hands moving to pull at his own hair. "Wan-wanna play daddy fone. Sleepy time, daddy. Daddy say go sleepy, sleepy time, but not sleepy so play daddy fone! Daddy say no fone, no sleepy, no up. But is sleepy time!" 

Michael caves, handing his new phone to his son, who'd already found a few games to download earlier when Michael had first shown him the new device. "Just sit down over there and let me finish with this, okay, then we'll go. Just give me half a second, kid." 

"Then sleepy?" 

"Then sleepy, J."


	8. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of chapters (4-12) being posted at once 
> 
> Be sure to START WITH CHAPTER 4 (if you have read 1-3) 
> 
> THIS is chapter 7

Greenaway shot him a confused look as his walked through the main door. "You're back?" 

"Mate," Finely McConnell stops Calum's hand from moving to pick up his gun. "We all understand if you need to take a week." 

Calum shakes his head in disagreement, elbowing past his coworker to get to his own desk. 

He starts to spew a joking comment about having too much paperwork to clear the tension in the room, but he's stopped when a superior slams their own office door. "Shooting on Snow Street, looks like a robbery gone bad. Shelton, Smith, I need you at the hospital. Fin, I want this out of the media until we're sure it has no connection to the Night Riders. Hugh, you're..."  he trails. He gives Calum a glance and then goes back for a long stare as if mentally computing his stability. He turns back to the newbie, "Hugh, stay here and keep Tabitha sane. Hood," 

"Yes, sir?"  

"You're with me. We pull out in five, load that gun." 

 

Calum moves out of the way of the forensics photographer. "Single gunshot wound to the back of the head." He narrates, "Boom." 

He steps to the side of the body that had yet to be moved, "He's dead, but I kick him over anyways." He mimics a kick to the shoulder where they had decided the body should have fallen due to blood splatter. "The shot pushed him forwards, but I want to see his face."  

"Why, he's dead already." The photographer questions. 

Calum shrugs, continuing his step-by-step, "one shot to the shoulder. Boom. Two in the stomach. Boom, boom. The groin, boom. And last one in heart, boom." 

Calum rubs a hand over his face, taking in the entire scene again, going over the possibilities in his head. "Damn lot of overkill, boss." 

He moves to the register, opened. Did that come first, or did the killer take the money as he left? With extreme overkill cases - such as this - Calum could reason out that the money was taken as an after thought, simply because it was there. 

"It's not about the money, too much over kill. This is personal." He links his fingers behind his back, pacing the blood stained floor. "But not so personal. There was no confrontation, guy never saw it coming, first shot put him down, but I'm angry, I'm going to shoot again. Six shots, clips empty, I'm still mad. Hyped on adrenaline, the kill wasn't as satisfying as I'd hoped, I smash the computer." 

He walks behind the counter, mocking a shove to the spot the computer - that now laid on the floor - should have been. 

"Personal items?" Hood's partner questions. 

Calum slides a couple of drawers open. "Yeah, damn." 

There's a picture of the dead man and two young girls. The man - the picture of the man - has a pen stabbed into his abdomen, the girl on his right is untouched, but the one on his left is circled in thick ink. As if someone had been drawing circles around her for hours. 

"Our guy sure spent a lot of time here before the kid came in." He takes a picture of the drawer with his work phone before he picks it up to show the rest of the room. "Holds some pretty big grudges, too. We need to find out who these girls are and put them under surveillance until we find this guy." 

 

 

••••

 

 

Luke was sulking in the passenger seat of his attractive attackers vehicle. He was still dressed in his barely-there bar attire. His high heals sat sideways in the floorboards, he'd kicked them off as soon as he'd realized he wasn't getting out of there. 

"Where are you taking me? I have classes tomorrow." 

Ashton huffs our a breath of annoyance, "Didn't seem concerned about your classes earlier." 

The background radio music pauses to ring Ashton's phone through the Bluetooth connection. 

"I'm not making you drugs, I don't do that any- I don't do that." 

"I'm not a cop, you can stop the dumb blond act. And shut up, yeah?" The older man presses a button on the steering wheel to pick up the call. 

"I'm on my way, found a-" 

"What the hell have you done?" Calum seethes through the receiver. 

"Found a chemist. Who spit in your Cheerios?" 

Both men in the moving car can hear Calum's ragged breathing through the speakers. "Snow Street? Are you kidding? I told you to lay low." 

"What happened on snow street?" 

"You tell me, fucker." 

Ashton looks to his passenger as if the captive man should know what is going on. Luke shrugs his innocents. "I'm in goddamn Grundy, leaving a sleaze-bar. How am I suppose to know, Calum?" 

"What?" Calum blinks, shaking his head. Even though his lover can't see him, he can imagine the look on his face. "Grundy? You're in Grundy? Why are you in Grundy?" 

"Thats what I've been telling you this whole time! What happened on Snow Street?" 

"Anthony's dead." 

Luke's head nearly smashes the front windshield with the force it take to stop the vehicle at 70 miles-per-hour. Ashton slammed the brakes so hard he wasn't sure they would ever work again. The sound had the blond passenger covering his ears and the smell of the brakes rubbing was horrific. 

"Dead. Gone. Six shots total, tore the shop apart. Why are you leaving a sleaze-bar?" 

"I told you, I found a chemist. If you'd listen to me you'd know. Who killed Anthony?" 

"I thought you had, don't have a clue now." 

"The cops catch up?" 

"Not yet, too much more of this and they will. Aaron's not dumb." 

Ashton sucks in a calming breath and presses the gas pedal again. "I'm on my way, about an hour out, we'll talk later. Don't die. Love, later."

Calum repeats it, "Love, later." 

The call drops and Luke stares wide-eyed at the man beside him. Body turned completely in his seat to stair Ashton down. He moves his lipgloss from his handbag and runs it across his bottom lip absent minded so many times that it starts to do more hurt than help. 

Ashton rolls his eyes at that shell shocked look on a man who makes - made - drugs for a living. He throws in a condescending taunt, just for good measures. "Buckle up, buttercup."


	9. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of chapters (4-12) being posted at once 
> 
> Be sure to START WITHH CHAPTER 4 (if you have read 1-3) 
> 
> THIS is chapter 8

Don't look back 

 

Luke was still pouting in the... well actually he didn't know where he was. Ashton had brought him here, blindfolded for the last stretch of road that led them to whatever building they were in now. Luke new he had to currently be in cellar of some kind, below ground. He had all the necessary gear of a home kitchen and then some just without the food. 

His phone service was little to none, not that he could use it anyways. Surprisingly, Ashton had given the device back after the blond agreed to work for a large cut of the profits. Still, he found it odd. Really, Luke thought, what would he say? Hello officer, I've been kidnapped to make drugs. Why? Oh, well I used to be very good at it. Yeah, no. 

The walls were grey, concrete or cement, and bare. There was a couch in almost the middle of the room - only slightly pushed to one wall - and one wall was dedicated to kitchen appliances. Whoever cooked here before, well, Luke isn't much for their style. He'll have to talk to his attacker about fixing the place up a bit. How he, of all people, could be expected to work in such a place was really the mystery of all mysteries. 

High healed shoes sat carelessly against the last stair. He'd never put them back on after abandoning them in Ashton's car. In fact, Ashton had carried Luke into the building where he finally removed the cloth around his made-up blue eyes and allowed him to walk down on his own. 

The man Luke now knew to be a drug/arms dealer had hurried him quickly down with a blanket in his arms and left  even faster. He'd assured the blond that he would be back soon. Whatever 'soon' meant. 

Luke wasn't about to start messing in chemicals and pill capsules just yet. He arranged the blanket so that it covered his body from the cold but also kept a barrier between himself and the material of the couch.  He felt more like a prisoner than a chemist and he'd be sure to tell Ashton that when the man returned. He's use to people doting on him while he concocts illegal substances. 

He startles when the door at the top of the stairs - the only door - creaks open. He's half tempted to shout at the other man for scaring him, but he catches sight of a gun belt and slaps his own hand over his mouth. 

The police officer creeps down, hardly silent on the stairs but making a valid effort.  Thinking only in mental mantras 'oh fuck' Luke scrubs at his cheeks until his can see the shirt pocket on the officers uniform. His face is flushed, he yanks a shoulder of his top off a bit and let's tears gather in his eyes. 

"Police," the officer finally announces, "hands where I can see them." His own hands already firmly around his gun. 

Luke squeaks audibly and raises both hands with his blanket still clutched in tight fists at the edges, raised like a cape behind him. 

"What are you doing here? How did you get down here?" 

The man lowers his gun but Luke keeps his hands in the air, "I don't- I don't- I was atta bar- a guy- I don't," 

The officer narrows his eyes and slowly moves his gun back to its holster. "What's your name?" 

"Luke H-Hemmings," he starts to repeat it I'm terrified chant but, 

"Motherfucker, Ashton!" 

Luke drops his hands, wiping the tear streaks from his face. "What?" There's an irritated pitch in his voice that he tries to conceal. 

"You're Ashton's, a cop?" 

"He's not my boyfriend." Calum gives him a once over, and then a twice over. "What are you wearing?" 

"Clothes!" It's an indignant exclamation. 

"You look like a street side hooker," He groans, "He thinks you're fit to be in here." 

Luke rolls his eyes. He new if he stood he'd have leverage on this guy, but this guy also had a gun, and anyways he'd already agreed to do this job for Ashton. No matter how much he wanted to smack the grimace off of this cops face. 

"Isn't much of your problem, is it?" Luke jabs, "I'm damn good at what I do. 'Sides, he's not your boyfriend." He tacks that ending in under his breath but still loud enough to be understood. 

"I should drag your ass right on to the station." 

"And say what, mall cop? 'Here's a guy my drug dealer not-boyfriend kidnapped'?" 

The door at the top of the stairs creaks again and this time the intruder is quick to announce himself. Calum bends at the waist to crumple the chemists crop top in his fist, talking low so that his lover doesn't over hear. "One goddamn wrong move from you and no one will even know you existed." 

Calum straightens and plasters a smile on his faces as Ashton steps of the last ledge. He sends a cocky wink in Luke's direction. 

Luke kicks him in the nuts.


	10. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of chapters (4-12) being posted at the same time 
> 
> Be sure to START WITH CHAPTER 4 (if you have read 1-3) 
> 
> THIS is chapter 9

Michael is tired. 

That's all, just tired. Tired physically, tired mentally. Tired of running. Tired of hiding. Tired of looking over his shoulder every goddamn time he leaves that hotel room. 

He's tired of the hotel room too. Tired of screaming fits from Jasper. He's tired of his own tears too. 

He's tired because he has a three year old that can't sleep through the night. He tired because he knows his nightmares would wake him up anyways. 

He's tired of strangers staring him down on the street, or judging him in a grocery store. 

He's tired but more importantly, he's done running. 

Jasper doesn't like crowds. You learn something new everyday and Michael learned that Jasper does not like crowds. 

Or clowns for that matter, but Michael was already shielding his little face from the world before they made it past the two clowns. 

Michael had decided to take his son to a fair - really more of an amusement park for younger children. Neither of them had ever been, so it seemed like a good enough idea. 

The father managed to pay for and carry and order of French-fries and cheese to a bench set up along the walk way. He put Jasper on the ground so that he could use the seat as a table and sat down himself.

Jasper drops his first fry, the second makes it into his mouth depositing cheese sauce around his lips. "Fry, daddy." He hold a rather small piece of food up towards his father. 

"Thank you, J." 

Jasper stays relatively quiet while he shoves cheese covered fries into his mouth. His father sneaks a few for himself while the kid is distracted. 

Michael procrastinates getting up to throw the fire container away by cleaning the cheese sauce from his sons mouth and fingers... and eyebrow. 

"How on earth, did you..." Jasper giggles in a babyish way, slapping at his fathers as they remove the yellowish goo. 

Michael stops fussing over him when a little girl comes over and pulls on Jaspers shirt. 

"Wanna come swing with me?" 

She looks a bit older than Jasper, maybe five, and way taller. Her, very pregnant, mother is right behind her, grabbing her away with an apologetic look. 

"It's okay," Michael forced out before she can actually apologize. "He can go, if it's alright with you." 

"She's a social butterfly, never met a stranger." The mother sighs fondly. "Doesn't know what to do without someone to play with." 

Michael sends her a smile and turns to his son, "You wanna go swing, Jasper?" He points the boy towards the visible swings. "I'll be right here and you can come back whenever you want." 

Unfortunately, his son is as antisocial as he is. This is a good opportunity to let him branch out. Get away from hiding behind his father and actually have some fun. 

There's a nervous reluctance in the child's eyes, "How about, I got get us a drink, right there." He points to the lemonade stand shaped like a lemon, right beside the swinging ride. His hope was for Jasper to talk to, maybe even befriend, the little girl on his own. "while you're in line. And if you still don't wanna do it we don't have to but I think it'll be fun." 

 

 

••••

 

 

"This is the third one this week, Aaron." The officer points out. 

His superior rolls his eyes, sliding in dark sunglasses. "I'm aware. No one leaves." He orders the last part to a group of officers, he doesn't stop to explain just walks past them. 

The field was set up like the fair was in town but the rides and food stands were permanent fixtures in the town. 

Calum sighs, "This one is a lot more public, who found the body." 

"Lilly Alvin, a twelve year old little girl." 

"Damn, I'll go talk to her then," 

"No, Greenaway is already with the parents, I want you on the scene." 

 

The scene was odd to say the least. Extremely public, like, extremely public. Calum truly has no clue how someone could kill and dump a body around so many potential witnesses. 

She was leaned up against the side of a game stand. One of the ones where you had to throw a dart at a balloon. She was sat in a pool of her own blood in the dirt near the back of the stand. 

"First respond already talked to the worker." 

"Have we ruled him out?" 

"Not entirely, but I think it's best to expand our options a bit." He nods to the shaking teenager speaking with two officers. 

Calum paces one front of the body, never taking his eyes from it no matter which way he turns. 

"No one has located the missing child yet." A female officer stops by to inform, "We're thinking it might be a true kidnapping, not just a rush-of-panic separation." 

"Call k-9's and get teams stationed every half-block. If it's the same guy we've got roughly three hours to fine the kid." 

"She wasn't killed here." His voice is monotone, breaking into the conversation around him. 

"What?" The woman questions. 

Calum shakes his head in a 'no' motion. "This is a dump site. She has no defensive marks, her nails are painted and not chipped but her skin is nearly blue." He moves an arm that's not his own with a gloved hand. "They've taken the blood from her body and dumped it here, before they placed the body. Needle marks in her arms, this was a process. She's was never at the fair, someone brought her here." 

"Why?" 

"Why do they ever drop a body in plain site? Publicity."


	11. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of chapters being posted at the same time (4-12)
> 
> Be sure to START WITH CHAPTER 12 (if you have read 1-3) 
> 
> THIS is chapter 10

"You really need this," The blond laughs from the stove. He'd discarded his skirt and crop top for a XXXL sweatshirt, fuzzy socks and boxers he'd asked Ashton to pick up. Surprisingly, his kidnapper complied, even bringing down a pair of sweatpants he'd hadn't asked for and a t-shirt that would actually fit Luke correctly. 

Ashton was lounging on the couch 'making sure Luke does his job' which sounded a lot like an excuse to get away from the aggressive not-boyfriend. "What gave you that?" 

"We need to liven this place up if you expect me to work down here for the rest of my life." 

"Not- it's not the rest of your life. But fine, what do you want," Ashton questions but thinks better of the allowance, "be reasonable here." 

"I'll make a list." Luke smirks to himself, back to Ashton. He wipes the expression off of his face when he turns back to perch on the counter beside the stove. "And that is what 'gave me it' by the way."

"What? That I'm not fighting you on 'livening up' the place? It's dull, Carlisle was always afraid of a bust, so he kept it boring. I'm sure some pink won't kill me."

Luke was starting to wonder how exactly this man got into illegal business. He seemed like far too much of a push over to get anywhere with the criminal types.

He shakes his head at his kidnapper, watching the stove as he does so. 

 

 

••••

 

 

Calum's head hurts. A sharp pain in his temples that just won't dull no matter what he does. 

He's careful not to step in the blood surrounding the chair as he makes his way to the couch. "She's not dead... yet, that is." 

The other man is conscious now, glaring Calum down but unable to spew the insults or pleas around the gag. 

"Now, I asked a question." 

Calum trusts the police department, really, he does. But these murders aren't slowing down and quite honestly his toes feel a bit stepped on. He doesn't have time to track down a serial murder and talk to all the people on his ever-growing list. 

He's always been the type to do what he needs to do, and right now he needs to get Ashton out of this sticky situation with the drugs and the chemist and the Night Riders. But again, he can't do that with another psychopath on the loose. 

So he's going to do what he has to do. 

What he has to do in the moment is get this man to talk before his wife bleeds out on the floor because if he can't set them both up correctly and get the hell out. 

If he's timed it right - and he has - he'll be home long before the couple is dead. While all the reports will show that they died quickly. 

Untraceable. 

"If you'd just spit it out, I could let you go and you could call your lovely lady here an ambulance, yeah?"

 

 

••••

 

 

He'd successfully enrolled his son in school. Successfully used a completely fake identity to get his son an education. 

Fuck anyone who thinks he isn't doing the most. 

He's killing it, it's been a damn good day in the Clifford household.


	12. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of chapters today (4-12) yada yada 
> 
> Be sure to START WITH 4 (read 1-3 first Duh) 
> 
> THIS is ch 11

As much as Calum wanted to say he had full control of the situation, he didn't.  He had more deaths show up in folders on his desk in the past month than he had all year and he couldn't figure out why no matter what tactics he tried.  He had a drug cartel breathing down his neck - well, Ashton's - to push out more product than they could handle. And his lover is now screwing around with some chemistry geek in a skirt. 

A-fucking-mazing. 

He can feel his body vibrate with rage as the door at the top of the stairs opens, it shuts just a quickly. Calum knows the blond can see him the moment he flips on the switch, but Luke has gotten comfortable around both of the criminals employing him currently. 

Luke bounces off the last step nodding towards the officer. He spins his body towards the kitchen set to begin a seemingly endless process. He's wearing men's clothing today, Calum notices with a scowl. 

"What's up? What do you need? I'm just finishing up Gekowsky's order for the 18th, but I should be able to squeeze some if it's little." He spoke as if his product was mass produced for small businesses around the world. It more-or-less was. 

Calum blinks. 

The chemist laughs, a confused laugh, until it catches in his throat and comes as a cough. "Okay, fine. Don't tell me." 

The police officer is quick to move behind the unsuspecting body. He flips the nob to heat an eye on the stove and corners Luke beside of it. 

"Holy- what the hell, Calum?" 

There face to face, noses nearly touching - maybe they are. Calum's oh-so close and Luke can decide if it's incredibly threatening or incredibly attractive. He also can't tell which of those options the elder in aiming for. 

"I need you-" he cuts himself off to take a breath through his nose. Luke assumes he's done at that. 

He bites a glossed lip and moves a hand from the counter to mess in Calum's dark hair. "Well, okay." The blond almost giggles. 

Luke meets their lips and the officer lets it happen. Calum must admit that he finds the blond much more attractive in this attire than what he'd worn when they met. Still, the sticky gloss transferring to his lips gave him the same feeling that mucus would. 

He moves one hand to the blonds throat to force him away. He hadn't been planning to truly hurt his lovers little play-thing, until Luke had kissed him. Now, he's not so sure. He tightens his fingers around the pale throat, and now, Luke does giggle. Head thrown back, lips pulled into a wide smile, giggling. 

Calum is choking him, and Luke fucking giggles. 

"I need you," Calum repeats, adding pressure with his hand until the smile drops from pink lips. "To do your fucking job, and stay the fuck away from my boyfriend, you absolute whore." 

Luke gasps for air, his oxygen intake coming in at little to zero. In speaking, the gloss along Calum's lips slides and clumps uncomfortably. In a moment of anger, he takes one of Luke's hand in his free one and pulls it to the heated portion of the stove. 

"Do not ever, get your lipstick, on me, again." Luke can't even scream, the constriction around his airway not letting up. 

Finally, Calum tosses him against the cabinet doors in the corner, in the floor of the kitchen. 

Luke sucks in a startled breath of air. Calum's already up the stairs as he begins coughing. His hand is burning, literally burning despite not touching the heat anymore, but his lungs are burning as well. They're forcing him to pull in air and push it back out in a cough, making the insides of his throat as raw as the bruised outsides. He coughs until he feels like his choking again, then he gags on the outflow of air from his lungs. 

His body repeats the process until he's vomited in the middle of the kitchen floor, and laying in a dazed state against the oven door, evening out his breaths. 

 

 

••••

 

 

There's the sound of gasping for air once again, only this time it's not Luke gagging. 

It's Ashton. 

And if they weren't fucking before they sure as hell are now, for the pure spite of it.


	13. Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of chapters have been posted today (4-12) 
> 
> Be sure that you START ON CHAPTER 4 (if you have already read chapters 1-3) 
> 
> THIS is chapter 12 and the final update in my updating spree today (not the last update for this story!)

"If I feel that water bottle touch my ass one more time I'll beat your ass." 

"Daddy, wooks!" 

Jasper abandons his tapping of the plastic bottle against his fathers jeans at the threat and immediately moves to walk on the bumper blocks along the rows of cars. 

"Yeah cool, babe. You're gonna fall." 

"No fall." 

"Okay," Michael rolls his eyes at the child who he knows to have about as much coordination as himself - and that's little to none at all. "Come on, we have to go across here. Get my hand. Thank you." 

Ashton smiles at the duo. "He's so big now." 

Michael nods, pulling the hand that Jasper had taken forward, causing the baby to giggle as he was dragged along. 

"My mate got you that discount, yeah?" 

Michael confirms with a hum, they've reached a populated area so he moves into this other males bubble, pulling his child along. 

Ashton takes the lead as they reach their destination, pulling the door open and holding it for the small family. 

The father notices the small waiting line and takes his son to sit on a cushioned bench while their companion gives their name and number in their group to the receptionist. Jasper fusses a bit, wanting to play. Michael jumps when his son is lifted from the chair. 

"Sorry," the other man apologizes, setting Jasper in his lap. 

Jasper turns, eyes narrowed at the unfamiliar face, "I dunno you!" He gasps, earning three attention of a few other customers. "Daddy, stranger danger! Down, down!" 

"Shush, Jasper Kain!" The father watches as his friend send the on lookers the same nasty glance they're giving the group. He calms the child in hopes the general public around them won't call child services. An elderly lady to their left giggles at them. 

"How old is he?" She asks sweetly. 

Michael freezes up for a moment so Ashton jumps in, "He's almost four, now. Right, J?" 

"Yuh," he settles in the strangers arms. 

The smaller Clifford holds his hand out to the woman, spreading his fingers as far apart as they'll go. There's a small group around the child that laughs at the innocents. 

Michael pushes his sons thumb into his palm to create the number four. 

"Yeah, and Jas, you do know Ashton, it's just been awhile. We were friends way before me and you were." 

"You not my fend, Daddy." 

"No?" 

"No. You daddy." 

"Okay." 

 

 

••••

 

 

Michael closes the door behind them, letting it lock automatically.  He bites his bottom lip with a smile, eyebrows raising at his friend. 

"He's cool by himself?" 

"He asleep." Michael leads them to the stair way of the old motel he's still not gotten out of.

"So," 

"So?" 

"Look, Mike, I know you've been having a rough patch..." 

"No, Ashton. Look, I can't tell you how thankful I am that you've done this all of this for me, but I can't-" 

Ashton shakes his head, hair flying wild. Neither had looked at each other but Ashton does now as they leave the hotel property to travel the sidewalk. "No, man, no. I just, you're not back on the game, right. I mean, not that I think you would, you've got the baby and all now. But, look, my boy is having a bit of a rebellion, and if you've got anything to do with it- look I just need know." 

"Not since we've been here no. I did one in Amsterdam for that week, and the day we stopped in Westerfield, that was me too, but not since I've been here."

"I believe you, Mike. Hey, you remember Carlisle?" 

"Draco Malfoy looking bastard? Yeah, I guess I do." 

"Yeah, he's dead." 

"Congradu-fuckin'-lations." 

Ashton's hand slaps to his own mouth to quite the laughter. "Yeah, I wish I could've done it." 

"You didn't?" they're walking along the sidewalk and should probably be more cautious given the area, but neither seems to care. 

Ashton's eyes roll even though Michael can't see them. "No, Cal doesn't like me getting my hands dirty. Says he can cover his own tracks better. Honestly, I think he just gets off on it." 

"Doesn't everyone?" 

"Yeah, well whatever. I'm going to start getting trigger happy in bed if he doesn't let up soon." 

"Damn. You can't kill 'em if your fuckin' him. And he's a cop? No way, man." 

"Yeah, it's ridiculous. The new chemist doesn't seem to like him much, either. Took me three weeks to track this one down and Cal went and burnt him already. Don't know what I'll do if he starts sending out duds because of it." The elder huffs. 

"You've got the groups on you again? You didn't tell me that."

"Yeah, but I can't complain to you. C'mon man. You've got it worse, and with the baby on top of it all. Doesn't feel right bitching to you." 

Michael groans out as if only now remembering, "I had to get a new phone, busted it a bit ago. Jasper went and answered a track call. Had to switch hotels and everything."


	14. Thirteen

Michael doesn't know much, but he what he does know is that he is oh-so very thankful for his little boy. 

 

 

 

"Daddy, get Mm?" The small Clifford hums the letter 'm' out, his own way of saying 'McDonalds'. Michael finds it adorable. 

"Sure, J-baby. Nuggets? Malcom, what do you want?" 

The second little boy occupying the back seat of Michael's car doesn't answer right away. When Michael checks his mirror to look back at the boys Malcom is shaking his head slowly. 

Honestly, the boy is four years old, Michael should have expected as much. "You don't know? That's okay, do you like little foods or big foods?" 

The boy pinches two of his fingers together very closely, holding them out towards Michael even though the man is facing away. "Little, Daddy! Did little fingers, means little, but you drivin' so no look." 

"Okay, when you go to McDonalds with mommy, does your food come in a smiley box?" 

"Yeah!" 

"So, do you like chicken nuggets, like J, or do you eat hamburgers?" 

"Like J!" 

"Good, do you dip them?" Michael checks the children again, they're side tracked playing with Jaspers toy cars, so he asks again a bit louder. 

Jasper gives a sound so close to a scoff that Michael nearly laughed aloud. "Duh, yucky wif no sawce." 

"Ketchup!" Malcom giggles from beside Michael's son, causing the other boy to jump. Michael has to laugh a bit as well. 

Michael pulls them around the drive through to get their food and keeps his mouth shut when the boys start playing with the included toys rather than eating their food. 

"Where we goin'?" Malcom asks, he's got a toy Simba (lion king) raised in the air and a french fry half way in his mouth. 

"We," the father takes a sharp turn and pauses his words, "are going to meet with a friend of mine. Jas, remember we went out with Ashton the other night? We're going to see him again, and he's gonna bring a really nice friend of his too. We're almost there so finish your food, yeah."

 

It takes them another twenty or so minutes to reach their destination. Michael exits the vehicle first to give Ashton a quick one-armed hug. 

"Is this area safe? And you're sure he'll come?" 

"Did you do what I told you to?" 

Ashton nods and glances around them, worried. 

"Then he'll come." Michael reassures. 

The father moves to the back door of his car. He helps his child, who has already unbuckled his own seatbelt, out of the car. Jasper stands beside his daddy, turning to wave at Ashton from behind Michael's legs. 

"Hi!" 

"Hello, Jasper." Ashton chuckles sending Michael a questioning look. "What are you doing here?" 

"I couldn't just leave him," Michael states, walking around to the other side of the vehicle. 

"You did last week!" The dealer hisses above the top of the small car, picking his friends child up into his arms. 

"Different." The father rolls his eyes, opening the passenger side. He unbuckles Malcom from the extra child's seat and pulls the boy into his own arms instead of placing him on the ground. 

Michael takes the extra seat from his own car and settles it on the roof of Ashton's. 

"What the hell, Mike? Who's kid is that?" 

Ashton is ignored and has to rush a bit to catch up with the man who's headed into the old factory building. 

"You the boyfriend?" Ashton catches the elder Clifford ask as he enters. 

"No," Ashton answers for the blond, "this is Luke, he's in for Carlisle." 

"You brought the chemist?" 

"You said good with kids," 

"I hate children." Luke jumps in. 

"Not today you don't," Michael smiles, looking over the feminine man. "Do I know you?" 

Luke rolls his eyes, he doesn't answer the question but puts a hand out to either child. "What am I doing with them then?" 

"Not them," Ashton's eyes snap to his friend, finally catching on to Michael's plan. 

"Michael, no!" 

"Michael, yes. You wanted a meeting with Tokyo, I'm giving you a meeting with Tokyo, suck it up." He sets Malcom on the ground and moves to take Jasper from his place, still in Ashton's arms. 

"Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?" 

Ashton sets his jaw but let's it happen. Michael kisses his sons forehead and hands him off to the blond. 

"Jasper, Luke. Luke, Jasper." He introduces swiftly. "J-baby, you and Luke are gonna go play okay? Maybe learn some science stuffs, yeah." 

He sets his son in Luke's arms, holding his weight until Luke fumbles to a comfortable position. He hold out his car keys. "Here. I don't care where you go or what you do, just don't stay here. If you lose him, hurt him, or let him get hurt I will find you and I will kill you. You've got roughly seven minutes to clear a ten mile radius, keep your phone on and do not tell anyone where you two are until Ashton calls.

What are you looking at? Go! Be good J." 

Ashton stand stiffly listening. 

"What?" Michael snaps when his son is gone. 

"You are one cruel man Michael Clifford." 

"Says you, at least I've never killed anyone." He swings Malcom back up into his arms and bounces him. Giving the child a sweet smile and running his fingers through the boys hair he looks over to Ashton, voice light. "Now, we wait."

 

 

****

 

 

Michael's prediction of seven minutes was off by one minute. 

A group of four men and a woman are anything but subtle in their entrance. "Michael, long time, no?" The man in front questions with a thick accent. "Heard you had mini in your time off." 

The men are all extremely similar. Dark hair, dark eyes, around six feet tall, all with around the same amount of muscle mass, dressed up in matching suits. Complete with bow ties and all. The woman has short, almost bobbed, dark brown hair and deep green eyes. She's dresses down in simple sweatpants and a hoodie with a logo for a college she didn't attend. She pushes a pair of purple sunglasses up into her hair. 

"You heard wrong." 

The woman makes a show a raising her eyebrows and humming understandingly. "Really? The child's seat outside on your vehicle says otherwise, Michael. Please, be a dear and, well, don't lie to me." 

"We're not here to talk about children, Tokyo, mine or otherwise."

Ashton hides his surprise well. He grips Michael's arm from behind as three of the men move around the room. "That's Tokyo?"

"Shut it," Michael hums with false happiness in his voice. He watches one of the men get very close to what he was hoping they find and turns around in Ashton's space, pressing their chests together. 

"We just want to make a deal. Tokyo, help me help you."

His voice wavers and he winks to Ashton as the winning door is opened. "We can make you millions, Tokyo. I promise you," 

The man Michael presumed to be Tokyo's current lover pulls a crying Malcom from a supply closet to Ashton's right -Michael's left now. 

Malcom reaches for the only person he thinks he knows in the room and whines when he's not given to Michael. Instead he's handed to the woman in the center of the room. 

"Oh, baby-baby, I'm so sure you can." She coos at Michael, looking at Malcom. 

Michael hides his smile in Ashton shoulder, "talk," 

Tokyo hums, taking a step towards the men, "alright then, let's talk."


	15. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, luck and best wishes from Merlin and Me! <3 all the love. 
> 
> (There was a pic of us here but this website won’t let me post it :-(... ) 
> 
> Holidays are tough for some people, and if you fall into this category and find yourself needing extended 'family', a listening ear, a friend, or anything else, please contact me and I will do my absolute best to be the support you need.   
> Again, all with the most love, Happy Holidays, Warm Winter and all other fitting alliterations. <3

"Oh my god," 

"Come on," Michael rubs salty tears from own his face with a smirk. He should've been a professional actor. "Let's see what your druggie has done with my kid." 

"Oh my god, Michael!" 

The younger man pulls the child's car seat off of the roof of the vehicle, tossing it aside into the surrounding bushes. He rolls his eyes and motions to the car doors, telling Ashton to get inside. 

"Is this what you do? This is why you had to leave, isn't it?"

"Give me your phone and drive." Michael sighs out. 

The dealer does as told, still shaking his head in disbelief as he does. "Holy shit... fuck-balls, it is, goddamnit, what the fuck, Michael?!"

The dial tone starts up, Michael's only concern is figuring out where his son is and making sure he doesn't have to kill a pretty blond chemist tonight. 

"It was a part of my job yes, but it's not why we left."

 

 

••••

 

 

Luke hates children. 

Maybe not this particular child, though. Because currently, he's lounged on the couch watching his new protégé incorrectly measure out his next batch of drugs. 

"No, no, second line. You've put too much," the baby giggles and smacks at the table making Luke flinch as chemicals shutter in their containers. 

"Make cake?" 

"No, make meth. But you can't have any." 

"Why?" 

(Luke hates children)

"Because I don't know how much would kill you." 

"Why?" 

(Luke hates children)

"Because I don't know how much you weigh." 

"Why?" 

(Luke hates children)

"Because I'm not your dad." 

"Why?" 

(Luke hates children)

"Because I didn't fuck your mom." 

"Why?" 

(Luke hates children)

"Because I don't like girls." 

"Why?" 

(Luke hates children)

"I dunno." 

"Oh, okay." 

"Yeah," Luke rolls his eyes, leaning his head back on the couch. Jasper moves to slap the table again, "Hey, stop that. Get me a beer from the fridge and come over here." 

Jasper toddles over to the chair, now pushed against one wall, and climbs into the blond mans lap before giving up the cold bottle. "I has?" 

The adult thinks for a moment a shrugs, "Sure, whatever, but not this one. Get another, I don't know what kind of diseases you have." 

"Not sick," Jasper disagrees, but still slides off of Luke's lap and waddles back to the refrigerator door to grab another beer bottle. When he returns he puts both arms in the air instead of climbing up like he had before. Luke lifts him only because he reasons that the couch is about a foot off the ground and the kid is barely pushing three feet tall. "Open, pease." 

Luke does so and allows the child to nestle into the couch under his arm. He flips the television on and hands the remote to the three year old, checking the time on his phone he doesn't look back up at the child. 

After minutes of radio silence from Luke's "boss" and the father of Luke's protégé and literal silence from the baby himself Jasper gets tired of flipping the channels. 

"Play game?" 

"What?"

"Pone game." 

"Don't have any," Luke moves to answer a text but the baby pushes up to touch their noses together, "Woah there, germ-bag, too close." 

"Talk daddy?" Jasper moves back in to touch his little rounded nose to Luke's upturned one. 

"He's busy and I don't have his number." Luke allows the contact. 

Luke's phone dings with an incoming text. 

"Pretty," Jasper giggles at the nude picture Luke received. 

Luke claps a hand over his mouth to stop the sound, "You think?" 

The child hums, he moves one hand from the beer he'd yet to touch but refused to let go of and pats Luke's cheek a bit too roughly. "Pretty!" 

The babysitter nods. 

"Watch Dexter!" 

Luke move to find the cartoon and glances down at the child's alcohol as he does, "Are you gonna drink that or hold it?" The blond changes his mind at the last second and flips to Netflix to watch the serial killer version of 'Dexter'. Jasper seems happy with that alternative, so they keep it on. 

"Smells yucky," Jasper explains like an answer. 

"Taste it," Jasper does. 

"Yucky," 

"Put it on the table," 

"I holds," 

"Okay." 

 

 

••••


	16. Fifteen

Luke has had a toddler on his hip for four days now. 

Four. Fucking. Miserable. Days. 

Luke hates children, and while it was funny at first to be the worst kind of influence on the child, he was not very fond of the rest of it. Not to mention he couldn't even leave the building. 

Well, turns out that wasn't entirely true, he'd found the door open on the fourth morning. Thankfully so because the half potty-trained child had run out of diapers the night before. 

Yes, diapers. Luke is going to kill every living thing in his path when this kids dad comes to get him. 

He's not sure who'd come to unlock the room or why they'd left the child but he was going to kill them as well. 

The door locked automatically when it was shut, and no one had given him a key as he was still partially a prisoner, so he was hesitant to leave. Still, he grabbed a stack of the money he'd earned, thank you very much, from the pile of drug money Calum hadn't bothered to take the last time he came down. 

He grimaced at himself in the mirror and used his free hand to yank the kid up into his arms, taking Michael's car keys and the diaper bag that had sat in the passenger's seat. 

"Ow, ow!" 

"Shut up," The man mumbled, searching a bit without moving his feet. 

"Wip-stick," Jasper pointed to the lipgloss on the couch cushion. 

"It's a gloss. L-L-Lipgloss, with an L," he enunciates. 

"Wha-evar," 

 

Jasper cried the whole way to the store, which was a longer drive than it should've been as Luke still didn't know the area well. At first it was because Luke forced him into the car seat in the back, instead of letting him ride shotgun. Then, barely two minutes after the first wave of tears stopped they started all over again, because Luke wouldn't stop at McDonalds. 

He was still crying about a happy meal when Luke tosses him into the basket part of a shopping cart, disregarding the sign that warned against it. "Alright, what the fuck do you need?" 

The baby sniffs, holding onto a box of Cheerios Luke had put in the basket with him. "Nofins," 

"Seriously, you've cried this whole time and you don't need anything? What do you want?" 

"'Donald's," he screamed. Even with Luke's coaching, the word was incomplete. 

There was a mother and her child, the little girl was probably eight or nine, down the isle that glanced over when Jasper yelled. 

"We're not getting McDonalds-"

"Wants! You said what I wants. Wants 'D-Donald's!" 

Luke wonders what he did to get stuck with the male Veruca Salt of the drug world. Not that he's not also, maybe slightly, bitchy and entitled, so really he assumes that's what he did to deserve it. "No. What else?" 

The mother shamelessly slid past Luke to grab an item, bumping along his body, for attention probably. 

"Gummies?" The baby whispered, watching the woman. 

"Yes," Luke says with relief that the baby has quieted. "Yes, gummies, good. We can do gummies, thank you, Jesus." 

"Names Jas-per," 

"I'm aware," 

When Luke turns to take the child to get some fucking gummies before he cries again and is face to face with the same woman. 

"How old is he?"

"Is that any of your business," he snaps, realizing he doesn't actually know. Maybe he was told, but he surely doesn't remember. The mother looks startled but Jasper distracts from that. 

"I fee!" He holds his hand out to her face, all five fingers spread as wide as they'll go. 

With one finger Luke slowly corrects the little hand a says, "Three, theres a t-h and r in there." 

"Th-ee," 

"Three." 

"R-ree," 

"Close, three." 

"Ee?"

"Nope. Still three." Luke maneuvers the cart around the woman but she's a step behind him. 

"You're really good with him, is he your first?" 

"Woah, no. Not mine." 

"Babysitting then, he responds well to you." 

"That's responding 'well'," the chemist snorts, giving her a once over. "He's my boyfriends." 

She sputters, "oh, well uh, that's nice that you-" 

Luke turns down the isle to get gummies, and, fuck diapers still, so they can get the hell out of that store. 

 

In the car, Jasper eats two packs of scooby-doo gummies before Luke can put the rest of their purchase in the back and pull out of the parking lot. 

"Date daddy?" Jasper says, spitting half-chewed gummy around the car. Luke flinches. 

"Uh? Not really, she wanted to fuck me, and I told you, I don't do girls. I just told her I'm fucking your dad so she'd leave me alone." 

"Lie?" 

"Yeah." 

"Oh, goods, daddy wuh kill yous," 

"Excuse me," Luke adjusts his rearview mirror to see the kid. 

"Daddy kill mommy," 

What?

Actually, Luke wouldn't be surprised. 

"Did he now?" 

Jasper nods shoving another gummy into his mouth. "Yuh, mommy say so all da time." 

"Whatever you say, kid." Luke laughed. 

"Wha-evar," Jasper agrees.


	17. Sixteen

As it would seem, Calum made it back before Luke. Four days since the blond had seen another adult and, of course, it just had to be Calum. 

"Who's kid is that?" Was the first thing he said when the duo approached, arms full of grocery bags. 

"Mine," Luke joked, but flinched back upon seeing the cops face. "I don't know, Ashton stuck him with me four days ago and I've still fucking got him. I was suppose to give him back after a couple hours-" 

"Well why didn't you?" 

"Does it look like I fucking know? Kid, get up on the counter and turn the front dials all the way left on the stove." Jasper was quick to follow orders. 

"You have a toddler doing what, apprenticing you?" 

Luke shrugs. Honestly, with the business his father is in and the fact that Michael had left his child alone with a stranger, Luke figured that knowing a bit of science couldn't hurt. 

The chemist picked the boy up from the counter top and put him on the floor. He informed Calum of the fathers name, told him Ashton apparently knew him well enough to meet him in a remote location. 

Jasper didn't know a last name to give and Calum couldn't be sure of an identity of someone with such a common name. He was a bit irritated that Ashton hadn't informed him of anything that was happening. 

He told Luke as much but really there was nothing the man could do about it. "I've told you as much as I know, man." Luke defended. "I was only there for a minute to take the kids, well, kid." 

Calum turned slowly in his seat on the couch. He moved so he was facing Luke. Luke's back was to him as he fiddled around the kitchen, the toddler close on his heals, fingers clutching the hem of his shirt. Jasper watched the cop with judging eyes. 

The words ran through Calum's head and suddenly it clicked. "Kids? Multiple, you're sure?" 

Luke nods. 

"Shit he's dealing for Tokyo. Or trying to deal to Tokyo. I don't know, how long has he been gone?" 

The chemist repeated his complaint if being with the child for four days. "Someone unlocked the top door today though,"

"No," Calum said, "that was me.  C'mon, get the kid, we need to go find Ash." 

"Now, how in the hot hell are we suppose to do that?" Luke complained but removed his work from the stovetop. He snapped his fingers three quick times in front of the toddlers nose to gain his attention and grabbed his little hand. 

"Hell," Jasper repeated in a whisper. 

Calum lead them back up the stairs they had only just descended. "You're going to 'file a missing persons report'. I need to get to some copies from the station. If he's really working with Tokyo we're screwed sideways in a church pew on Sunday." 

"What?"

Calum didn't respond to that, he just drug them from the building to his car. He pushed Luke into the back seat of the car with the baby and basically floored it to the police station he worked from. 

"Tokyo," he began to explain, "heads a group out of China. They're known for smuggling in the stations, but they specialize in trafficking, specifically children, usually boys." 

He slams the breaks at a red light, "Ashton could never get her attention on his own, which means this guy he's dealing with is bad fucking new. Probably mafia, if I were to bet. Maybe a hitman but he'd have to be damn good to work for her." 

Luke cut the cop off to ask the child, "What does daddy do when he goes to work?" 

Jasper shakes his head, Luke raises an eyebrow. Jasper pulls the mans head closer and whispers, "daddy say bad man go bye-bye," 

"He's a hitman." Luke concludes.


End file.
